


baby, we're two distant strangers

by kumajoonie



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Asian-American Character, Bottom Mark Lee (NCT), Chinatown, Columbia University, Explicit Sexual Content, FOB Asian Character, Implied period-typical racism, Kun speaks Mandarin, LMAO, Language Barrier, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT)/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung if you squint, Mildly Dubious Consent, New York City, Porn With Plot, Queer Culture, Sexual Tension, Somewhat, Top Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Yukhei speaks Cantonese, because they can't understand each other, implied period-typical homophobia, the rest of the boys speak Korean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26921854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kumajoonie/pseuds/kumajoonie
Summary: When a man approaches Mark at a restaurant in Manhattan's Chinatown and opens with “Néih hóu, ngóh giu Wòng Yūk Hēi,”Mark knows he is completely out of his depth.| based on the English version of WayV's "Love Talk"
Relationships: Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 22
Kudos: 330





	baby, we're two distant strangers

**Author's Note:**

> Unless otherwise stated:
> 
> Bold dialogue is spoken English  
> Plain dialogue is spoken Korean  
> Italicized and romanized dialogue is spoken Cantonese/Mandarin
> 
> You don’t need to understand the Chinese dialogue, since this work is through Mark’s perspective as a non-speaker! That said, I will include translations at the ending notes if you are really curious, but please read them at the end! As for Mandarin/Cantonese speakers, please let me know if I can make any corrections to my translations and phrases. I’m using the Yale romanization, which I know is not as popular now, just as a stylistic choice for the story. Thank you so much for reading!

_Baby, we're two distant strangers_

_I know you don't speak my language_

_But I love the way he's talking to me_

**_Manhattan. September 20, 1986._ **

Mark bounds down the stone stairs, feet practically tripping down each step. He’s clutching his bag in one hand and frantically checking the time with the other. 

He cuts across the corner of South Lawn, probably slaughtering the trimmed grass beneath him, and darts toward the gate to Amsterdam Avenue. 

As Mark jogs out to the street, body now shutting down one limb at a time, he spots Doyoung’s beige Chevrolet Cavalier parked at the curb.

Doyoung taps his cigarette off, the grey ash falling at his feet. He shouts at Mark as he approaches, “Hey Minhyung-ah, where are the others?” 

“I don’t know,” Mark mumbles out of breath. “Maybe they’re in class.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes, lifting the cigarette back to his lips. He inhales a long drag, then turns his head to exhale the smoke. “We said to meet here at 5pm.”

“Be patient, hyung. It’s only 5:08.”

Doyoung only huffs, leaning back against the Chevy’s hood and nursing his dying cigarette. He’s always like this, so _hungry_ to emulate the dark poets of the Beat Generation that he’d rather bottle his words up until they escape in protest, and the silence is filled with an explosion of sentiment that could not be born from nonchalance. For what it’s worth, New York City has been kind to his art. His poems about Korean rats scurrying in Manhattan streets, surviving off of the resources they could scarcely secure, were certainly none like what his professors had seen before. When Mark and Doyoung first met, Doyoung had proudly professed that he was a Classics and English Literature double major. 

_A Korean kid sent overseas for undergraduate school, to be a writer?_ “I can just tell you’re from a rich family,” Mark had deadpanned in response. He could never have foreseen how much of a pain in his ass Doyoung would soon become.

Having grown up in greater Seattle, Mark should have no problem mixing with the other students, but there’s an undeniable comfort in chatting with friends in Korean- a language long reserved for his family. Plus, Doyoung has a _car_. One that will take Mark wherever he wants, to their beloved dining haunts on nights like tonight, or bars on the west side of Manhattan, on nights much different from this one. 

When Mark got to linking up with Doyoung, Johnny obviously came with. Also a second-generation Korean American, albeit one hailing from Chicago, Johnny asserted his _mathyung_ status to force Doyoung and Mark to form a Korean students’ trio with him. “A few more, and maybe they’ll form an association soon,” Johnny had suggested optimistically.

Answering to Johnny's beck and call all the time _pissed off_ Doyoung, who already had an older brother at home. Last year, he found out from a friend of a friend that there was a kid in the mathematics department named Moon Taeil, who transferred from Yonsei University. He apparently was a _demon_ with proofs, which Doyoung didn’t give a shit about, but Taeil was in the year _above_ them. Doyoung managed to “accidentally” run into Taeil outside Milstein Library and invited him to knock back some shots of soju with the boys that weekend. Taeil never missed another outing with them. _Say goodbye to your unchecked power, Johnny._

After Taeil’s presence docked him down to regular-old-hyung status, Johnny knew he couldn’t retaliate with the same trick. He had to think outside of the box and conjure up an exhibit of creativity that would have Doyoung stammering in defeat. He marched up to Qian Kun as the kid was exiting a lecture for _Fifth Year Korean_ and aggressively befriended him. Although Kun wasn’t older, he _was_ Chinese, which had no other effect on the group than the fact that Doyoung couldn’t comfortably enforce the “archaic age hierarchy of Korean culture on our foreign friend,” which is exactly what Johnny had said.

Kun corrected Johnny by reminding him that they did, in fact, _also_ have an age hierarchy in China, but Doyoung got the message. 

Now, in Mark’s third year at Columbia College, their group has long been capped at the five of them. Mark is good with that, since five is the perfect amount of people to squeeze into Doyoung’s car for their Friday night dinners.

Which brings us to the three boys sprinting down the sidewalk now, hair blowing wildly at their drift. Mark thinks he might see a few papers flying out of Johnny’s book bag, but he doesn’t say anything when the disheveled bunch arrive at their feet. 

Johnny wheezes, a dry and exasperated sound scraping against Mark’s poor ears. “ **Sorry, Doyoungie.** **Holy shit, I couldn’t get out of the intro class** , the kids just kept coming and coming and _asking me questions_. Forgive your hyung, will you?”

Doyoung opens the backseat door without answering, then kicks out Johnny’s knees so he’ll fall inside. He points his cigarette at Taeil.

“Helping Professor Wallace with grading, the office door was locked until we finished.”

Doyoung squints, then motions for Taeil to follow Johnny inside. He turns to Kun.

“ **I was at the library. I also can’t afford a watch.”**

Doyoung actually _laughs_ , then drops his cigarette on the pavement and snuffs it out with his toes. “ **It’s fine, just get in**. And don’t think I’ll hesitate to nag you for not using your Korean, hyung.” 

Kun climbs inside with a bashful bow of his head, then shuts the door behind them.

Mark chuckles at that, sliding into the front passenger seat as Doyoung braves the rush hour traffic to come around on the road. He slams the door on the driver's side just as a beat-up Ford Escort slides by.

“Okay, hands and legs inside the car, boys.” Doyoung turns the key and revs the engine, only slightly wincing at the loud hollers in the backseat as he pulls onto the street.

* * *

It takes a while for the boys to push through the Friday night crowd on Doyers Street and finally land a table at the Nom Wah Tea Parlor.

Kun sighs fondly as he drops into a seat, the same way he does every time they eat in Chinatown, just to annoy the rest of them. He clenches his heart with bravado, then twists his face in overwhelming happiness. “I’m at home.”

Taeil chuckles, picking up a menu. “Isn’t this _Hong Kong_ style dim-sum?”

“I’m just teasing you,” Kun argues back. “You don’t have to ruin my fun, hyung.” 

While Taeil and Johnny start writing down their orders, something more appetizing catches Mark’s attention. 

Eating dumpling soup at a small table three down from theirs is a dark haired _giant_ \- by Mark’s standards- who might also be the most attractive man Mark has ever seen. He raises his spoon to his plush lips and Mark’s mouth starts to water at the veins sprawling across the man’s arm. He imagines what those big hands would feel like around his throat and _oh God,_ Mark is a pervert. He reaches out for a menu, since he might as well pretend to be looking anywhere else half as intensely.

“When I told you we were coming here to eat, I didn’t think you’d misunderstand me,” Doyoung whispers low as Mark leans over him.

Mark’s cheeks bloom red. “Aish, hyung. Don’t be so vulgar. I was just,” he coughs. “Browsing.”

Doyoung hums, a wicked smirk still on his lips.

“Hyung, do you always have to tease me?” Mark pouts, squeezing his fingers around Doyoung’s forearm. He blinks his pretty eyelashes, just the way he knows will get him out of trouble.

“Minhyungie, you’re too cute not to.” 

Doyoung relishes in the way Mark’s embarrassment doubles.

Mark tries not to let Doyoung get to him, instead hiding his face in the itemized list of dishes while the other boys order for the group.

When the waiter finishes taking their orders, Kun thanks him with his little-used Cantonese and apologizes for Mark, whose fingers just _won’t let go_ of the laminated sheet.

As the waiter finally retrieves Mark’s menu and slips away from their table, another figure replaces him. 

Mark wants to curl in a ball and die, because the man he was staring at earlier is now standing at the foot of their table and eyeing him back.

_Did he notice? Is he going to ask me to come outside and beat me in the middle of the sidewalk for being a homo?_ Mark’s spine chills to imagine what those arms could do to him, in both negative and positive contexts.

“ _Daaih gā hóu_ ,”₁.₁ The man greets them, an unexpected smile breaking out onto his perfect lips. 

Kun’s face drops. “He’s speaking Cantonese.” He grumbles, “I knew I shouldn’t have gotten cocky with the waiter.” Kun shoots the man an uneasy smile, then responds, _“Wǒ bù huì shuō guǎngdōng huà_."₁

A look of realization washes over the man’s face and he chews his cheek in thought for a second. Shifting his gaze _straight to Mark_ , he asks Kun, “ _Wǒ kěyǐ gēn tā liáo liáo ma?_ ”₂ He even _points_ at Mark, for good measure.

“What’s the verdict?” Mark whispers, fingers trembling against the table top. “Is he going to kill me?”

Kun laughs in shock. “You’re an idiot. He asked if he can talk to you.” 

“That could very well be code for _I want to kill him_. Maybe there are nuances to Cantonese you don’t understand!”

“We were speaking _Mandarin_.” Kun gives Mark a shrug. “I think you should just go for it.”

Mark sits back, then looks up at the man. 

He’s smiling, without a hint of detectable malice, and Mark thinks _well_ , _what the hell, if I die let my murderer be hot._

Without arguing, Mark stands up and approaches the man, who lightly rests his hand on Mark’s shoulder and guides him to the other table.

At least Mark can die knowing he was right- his hands _are_ _huge_. Mark can feel the size of the stranger’s palm warming up against him, even through the fabric of his button-up.

When they settle into the other table, Mark notices a small notepad beside the man’s bowl, opened pages filled with Chinese characters. It suddenly strikes his Ivy League brain that he doesn’t know _any_ Chinese.

He wiggles awkwardly in his seat, now even more intimidated by the attention he’s being given.

The man grins, then says, “ _Néih hóu,_ _ngóh giu_ _Wòng Yūk-Hēi._ ”₃

Yeah, Mark is completely out of his depth.

The man laughs at Mark’s frown, then taps his chest. “ _Yūk-Hēi._ ”

Mark gets it a little bit, so when the man repeats himself, “ _Ngóh giu_ _Yūk Hēi,_ ” and then points to Mark and asks, “ _Néih giu myéh mèng a?_ ”₄ Mark responds, “ **I’m Mark**.” 

Yuk-hei nods, then tilts his head to the side and gives Mark a small smile. 

Mark feels their shoes brushing. He swallows.

“ _Néih haih bīndouh yàhn a?_ ”₅ Yuk-hei asks.

Mark definitely feels Yuk-hei's foot pressing against his now. He narrows his eyes, trying to decipher whether or not the other notices.

While Mark tries to decode the situation and a language he has never learned, Yuk-hei pushes his notepad to the middle of the table and uses his pen to draw a sloppy sketch of the South Korean flag. He taps it with the pen, then points the tip at Mark. “ _Hòn gwok?_ ”

Mark’s mouth drops open in awe, and he slowly replies, “ **Yeah** , hanguk. **How did you know?** ”

Yuk-hei seems to understand his question because he just nods toward Mark’s table, where the group are loudly joking around in Korean, sticking out amongst the other Chinese-speaking and English-speaking patrons.

He seems fond of Mark's innocent expression and takes the opportunity of silence to draw the British flag on his page. “ _Ngóh haih hēung góng yàhn.”_ ₆

Mark raises his eyebrow. _What?_ He looks at the flag, then at Yuk-hei, then back at the flag. " **Oh**.” He laughs in disbelief. “ **Hong Kong**?”

Yuk-hei nods. He was too lazy to draw the whole flag.

“ **You couldn’t have just gestured to our surroundings**?” Mark chuckles at the careless smile Yuk-hei returns him, but his laughter dies cold in his throat when he feels the other boy’s shoe slide on top of his.

Without a hint of acknowledgement on his face, Yuk-hei _steps_ on him.

“ _Ngóh m̀h'mìhng,_ ”₇ He says with an easy shrug, pressing Mark’s foot harder into the floor.

Mark’s head is spinning and he feels absolutely clueless because _what the fuck is happening_.

Yuk-hei grins, jotting something down quickly in the notebook, then spinning it around to face Mark.

“ **17 Mott Street,”** He reads. Mark chews his bottom lip between his teeth. “ **The Wo Hop restaurant?** ”

Yuk-hei shakes his head, turning the notebook towards him and completing the address, before showing it to Mark again.

It now reads:

_17 Mott St._

_Unit #7_

“ _Nīgo haih ngóh ge deihjí_ ,”₈ Yuk-hei says, tapping the address, and it doesn’t matter that Mark has no idea what he means because Mark very clearly understands that it is an _apartment number_.

His nerves flare when he feels their ankles pressing together, Yuk-hei deliberately pressing the toe of his shoe against the back of Mark’s calf.

Yuk-hei writes a word in Chinese on the notepad and allows Mark to try and decipher it with the little brain function he has left available. 

星期日

Yuk-hei then draws a grid around it, placing the word in the first of seven boxes.

Mark recognizes the last character from his limited encounters with Hanja, and with further context, confidently replies, “ **That’s Sunday**.”

Yuk-hei nods, then adds another character in the box.

夜

Mark vaguely recognizes the character, but makes a face that encourages Yuk-hei to try with pictures instead. 

He sketches a little moon and-

“ **Night!** **I knew that. I just had to reach into the back of my mind.** ”

Yuk-hei laughs, nodding, and then draws a number 8 beneath it. He circles the date and the number, then circles the address, and connects them both with a line. He taps the pen against Mark’s side of the table, and then against his.

Mark thinks he understands, but just to be safe he whispers, “ **You and me** ,” then points to each of them. “ **There, at this time?** ”

Yuk-hei answers by pulling their legs apart under the table. He gives Mark a look.

Hesitantly, Mark inches his foot toward the other man and then slides his shoe on top of the other’s.

Yuk-hei gently nudges his foot away, but smiles in confirmation. He tears out the page and folds it up before slipping it into Mark’s hand.

Mark accepts it in a daze, then stands and returns to his table with the note in hand.

He’s still flabbergasted as he takes his seat beside Doyoung.

“Shit,” Doyoung says, easily grabbing Mark’s hand and forcing the piece of paper out from it. “Did you just get a proposition? In _Cantonese_?”

Mark’s mouth is dry.

“I guess this means you aren’t coming with me tomorrow?”

* * *

Despite Doyoung’s assumption, Mark does accompany him on Saturday night.

It is yet another they’re spending at _Julius’_ in Greenwich Village. 

Usually, Mark would be a little nervous about walking into a place like this, especially since he’s been in his fair share of bar fights with someone taunting him for his yellow skin, but something about him and Doyoung has the other clientele acting consistently pleasant.

He isn’t exactly oblivious as to why, he _knows_ that he fulfills some men’s fantasies about exotic gays, and he isn’t a stranger to their advances. Mark can admit that he’s graciously accepted a few free drinks in his lifetime. And he means _completely free_. Yes, Mark is that good.

There’s something liberating about being a complete unknown at an establishment like this, really just a title short of being a gay bar. Never would Doyoung so freely appear at such a place in Korea, and Mark can say the same for himself in his hometown.

Although he likes to look and not touch, regardless of the cruisers who insist on flirting with him, Mark is uncharacteristically excited about meeting up with this Yuk-hei guy.

“ **I don’t blame you** ,” Doyoung says after having rejected a man who looks suspiciously like Mark's old _Principles of Economics_ professor. “ **Yuk-hei was woefully attractive.** ” 

Mark laughs, sipping at his Manhattan. Yes, Mark is a cliché, let it go.

“ **Just be safe, yeah Mark**?” 

“Hyung!”

“ **Hey, I’m being serious. You know what he’s asking for, so just remember to protect yourself in whatever you choose to do.** ”

Mark empties his glass and sets it down on the bar top. “ **You mean...** ”

“ **Exit strategy, lube, condoms.”**

“ **You’re too blunt**.”

Doyoung slaps him. “ **You’re going to have sex with a stranger**! **So remember my advice**.”

Mark nods along. “ **Okay, okay**. **There’s a chance he isn’t planning what we think, you know**.”

Doyoung laughs, then presses the back of his hand to Mark’s cheek. “With a pretty boy like you **?** ** _Sure_**.”

* * *

Despite Mark’s earlier resistance to Doyoung’s wisdom, he _is_ pretty certain that they correctly understand what Yuk-hei was suggesting, so he follows Doyoung’s directions.

He’s standing outside Yuk-hei's door now, hesitant to even announce his presence. The condom he brought is burning a hole through his front pocket.

Mark checks the time, _8:05pm_ ** _,_ **then manages enough courage to knock.

The door opens in an instance. “Annyeong,” Yuk-hei teases, the Korean laced with his thick accent.

In the light of the building's hallway, long shadows draw across Yuk-hei's body. They snake along his neck and color in the creases where his shirt clings to his chest. His eyes are piercing Mark, almost daring him to lean in and _take_.

Mark blushes. “ **Hi**.”

Yuk-hei turns and leads Mark inside, the front door still open. He sits on the edge of the bed, large hands supporting his weight on either side. The purpose of this meeting is glaringly obvious now, a few condoms and a bottle of lube laid out on the covers. He gives Mark an expectant look.

Mark glances between Yuk-hei on the bed and the open door. _Oh_. He carefully presses the door shut behind him, making sure to leave it unlocked just in case.

Yuk-hei delights in his decision to stay, although Mark wonders why because _he did come here in the first place_ , and pats the space beside him.

Mark toes off his shoes, then pads over to the bed in his socks. He sits next to Yuk-hei, leaving just a couple inches between them. 

Yuk-hei picks up a condom from behind them on the bed, then shows it to Mark. He places it on his lap, then Mark’s, then picks it up again and hands it to Mark. 

Mark raises an eyebrow.

Yuk-hei laughs, trying again. He picks up the condom, points to his dick, and then to Mark’s.

“ **Oh.** ” Mark’s face _burns_ like someone threw him in a conventional oven and broke the dial . Shyly, he pulls the condom out from his pocket and gives it to Yuk-hei. “ **You can wear it**.”

Yuk-hei grins, taking the condom from Mark and setting it on the table beside his bed. He sidles up against the boy, eliminating the distance between them. 

“ **Mark** ,” he says darkly, fingers lightly resting against the boy’s chin. Yuk-hei leans in, close enough that Mark can feel his breath fanning across his lips.

Mark surges forward, throwing his right leg across Yuk-hei's lap and pressing their mouths together. 

Yuk-hei is laughing against Mark’s lips as they tumble backwards, one hand squeezing at Mark’s ass while the other attempts to clear the debris off of the bed.

Mark rolls his hips against Yuk-hei, moaning as the other boy pulls his waist down and presses their cocks together.

Yuk-hei takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into Mark’s open mouth, which has Mark melting in his arms. “ **Fuck** ,” he whines as he breaks away for air, “ **You’re so hot**.”

Mark is malleable under Yuk-hei's touch, and he keens when the older boy rolls them over. Mark feels pleasantly small like this, caged in with Yuk-hei above him. 

Yuk-hei starts to pull at the bottom hem of Mark’s shirt, and Mark is all but too eager to help him tear it away. As soon as it’s tossed to the floor, Yuk-hei is pressing hot kisses up Mark’s chest. He lets his hands wander over Mark’s lightly toned abs and sucks on a spot behind his jaw. He pulls back to look at Mark.

“ _Néi hóu leng,_ ”₉ Yuk-hei whispers, soon smothering the statement on Mark’s lips.

While their mouths are distracted, Yuk-hei fumbles at the buttons of Mark’s pants and harshly tugs them down the boy’s thighs once he gets them unhooked.

Mark whines high in the back of his throat, pulling on both Yuk-hei's shirt and pants. He kicks the bed petulantly, upset that he’s the only one who has stripped.

Yuk-hei can’t stop smiling as he pulls off his shirt, then rolls over to kick off his pants and underwear. He looks at Mark with a smirk. _Happy?_

Mark pales, but feels his cock twitch all the same. “ **You’re really big,** ” he announces, with a brashness that comes only from Yuk-hei not speaking English. 

  
  


Yuk-hei raises an eyebrow, but the smile on his face tells Mark he understands all the same. His dick is hard against his stomach, and all Mark can think to do is spread his legs and hope Yuk-hei fits between them. 

While Mark lays there cock-deprived, deliriously wondering what Yuk-hei's dick would feel like filling his mouth or his ass, Yuk-hei crawls over him to reach the table and grab the condom Mark had brought.

After he rips the packet open, Yuk-hei bends down to the floor and finds the bottle of lube they had discarded from the bed. With a mischievous smile, he tosses it to Mark.

Mark catches it in confusion. He gives Yuk-hei's face and dick equally blank stares.

When Yuk-hei has successfully rolled the condom on, he gets up onto his knees and pulls Mark up with him. He kisses the boy lightly, licking into the warmth of his mouth, then turns Mark around and pushes him face-down into the bed.

Mark’s whole body must be flushing, his face pressed into the pillow and his ass up in the air.

Yuk-hei does nothing, so Mark looks back and pouts.

Yuk-hei grins, pointing to the bottle of lube still in Mark’s hand.

Following his perceived orders, Mark gets up onto his elbows and flips open the cap. He turns to look for Yuk-hei's approval. At his nod, Mark pours it over his fingers and rubs them together. He lets his arms slide out from under him, so that his face is pressed against the covers again.

Mark reaches back slowly, anticipating the sensation of being full. He sinks his index finger in first and _whimpers_. It’s been a while.

Yuk-hei exhales shakily, enamored by the way Mark’s hole swallows his own digit. He smacks the swell of Mark’s ass, signaling him to _keep going_.

Mark bites the blanket and tries to slip in his middle finger. When he curls the two fingers inside, a shudder rakes through his body and he starts shamelessly fucking onto his own hand.

He can hear the strangled groan that tumbles from Yuk-hei's lips. He knows the man must be struggling, waiting for the moment he can stuff Mark with his aching cock.

Mark figures he might need two more to fit what Yuk-hei's working with, so he muffles his moans against the pillow and slips the last couple of fingers in at once. His hole sucks them in greedily, the excess lube dripping down his perineum and wetting his balls.

“Yuk-hei,” Mark mumbles, “ **Please.** ”

Mark curls his fingers lazily, knowing from the wet slicking sounds he hears that he’ll be full with something more satisfying soon enough.

Yuk-hei tugs lightly on Mark’s arm to pull his hand out, and Mark’s cock _leaks_ just knowing that the literal demigod behind him is going to fuck his lights out.

Yuk-hei mumbles something that Mark is too far gone to even process, then places his palm against the small of Mark’s back. The wet tip of his dick is teasing against Mark’s hole and Mark thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t-

_Yuk-hei slides his hips forward and sinks as far as he can, while smoothing his hand up Mark’s spine._

Mark sighs in relief, Yuk-hei's wide palm feeling like his only needed guidance as it holds him down, forces him to worship the dick slowly fucking into him.

Once Yuk-hei can slip his entire cock inside Mark, he spreads Mark’s knees a _little_ wider, then drapes himself across Mark’s back so he can press inside just a _little_ deeper.

Mark mewls, thighs shaking as his small body gives way to the intrusion of Yuk-hei's massive dick. “ **Fuck me. Please,** Yuk-hei **.** ”

Yuk-hei groans, leaving wet kisses along Mark's neck while finally rolling his hips into him.

“ **Fuck!** ” Mark shouts, muffled against the bed. He screams into the pillow when Yuk-hei starts thrusting his dick at an unforgiving pace. 

Mark’s poor, neglected cock is bouncing against his own stomach, sputtering precome whenever the head of Yuk-hei's dick brushes against that spot deep within.

Yuk-hei keeps mumbling Cantonese against Mark’s bare back, too engrossed in the feeling of his dick being squeezed impossibly tight to care for mistranslation.

When Mark starts breaking into sobs, Yuk-hei pulls them up to balance on their knees- and with a hand wrapped around Mark’s _throat,_ leans Mark against the headboard.

Mark bites his lip in a useless attempt to stifle his moans and clings onto the wooden board for dear life.

Yuk-hei, with one hand still gripping Mark’s neck, uses his other hand to steady himself against the wall. He fucks up into Mark at a gradually unsteadying pace, hips slamming against Mark’s ass at a speed mere mortals can only dream of.

He pants against Mark’s shoulder, then bites the skin there as he feels his balls tightening. Yuk-hei reaches around Mark to grab his dick, jerking him off quick and harsh, and only becomes more brutal as Mark cries out.

The boy’s hips are stuttering with each flick of Yuk-hei's wrist, and he makes sure to pound into Mark harder when he breathily moans, “ **M gonna come.** ”

Mark collapses against the headboard when he does, splattering white against it. He can only support himself with what little strength he has left as Yuk-hei persists, now using both his hands to pull Mark’s hips against his and fuck him as fast as he can.

Mark’s entire body shakes as he’s overstimulated, his insides twisting with pleasure.

When Yuk-hei presses close to Mark again, fisting his hand in his hair and pressing the entire expanse of his chest against the flat plane of Mark’s back, he finally comes, dick throbbing inside.

Yuk-hei huffs, fucking through his high, then pulls out of Mark and throws himself backwards onto the bed.

Mark tumbles down beside him, eyes sleepily finding recognition in Yuk-hei's face. “ **Thank you** ,” he murmurs before knocking out with a smile on his lips. 

* * *

When Mark wakes up, he’s naked under the covers, but his body is clean of both the lube and his own come.

He groggily sits up in bed and reaches down for his underwear.

_Oh_ , _that’s what good dick costs,_ Mark thinks when he feels the dull pain between his thighs. He quickly gets himself dressed, wincing only when he bends over. Yuk-hei is nowhere to be seen, so he decides to wait in a chair by the door.

After a moment, Yuk-hei emerges from his bathroom in a fresh set of clothes.

He teeters on the edge of the bed again, then slowly turns to Mark.

Mark’s brain almost implodes when Yuk-hei says, “ **Would you go out for dinner with me**?”

“ **What the fuck?** “ Mark stands up, completely disarmed at the revelation.

Yuk-hei smiles sheepishly. “ **I’m a student at NYU Law.** ”

Mark is silent.

“ **Studying International Law,** ” he supplements weakly.

“ **Why did you** -“

“ **I honestly have no** **clue**." Yuk-hei's stricken expression certainly seems to imply that it's the truth. " **I** **got up to the table and opened my mouth and the English just didn’t come out**.” He pouts. “ **I thought saying** ** _sorry I actually do speak English, but you made me way too nervous to remember it_** **, wouldn’t exactly help me.** ”

Mark gapes. “ **You were** **_nervous_**?” 

Yuk-hei nods. “ **I’ve never met a guy that was attracted to me before**.”

Mark can't help but burst into laughter. “ **You can’t be serious. There must have been _hundreds_ before me**.”

“ **Well, maybe so, but you’re the only one I’ve ever noticed**.”

Mark chews his cheek, studying the gorgeous boy who just gave him a dicking-down that he would die for. Maybe getting to know him wouldn’t be so bad, since they don’t need to rely on a notepad now.

“ **I was just going to let it go on and never see you again, but you’re really cute and I don’t want to waste the possibility of a future here.** ”

_And_ because Yuk-hei gives horrifyingly effective puppy eyes.

“ **Fine, I’ll have dinner with you. But only because the best restaurant in Chinatown is downstairs**.”

While he only smiles in response, internally Yuk-hei thinks _thank you,_ 多謝, 谢谢, 감사합니다 to the benevolent, multilingual spirit that had Mark give him a second chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations  
> 1.1: Hello (everybody)  
> 1: I don’t speak Cantonese (Mandarin)  
> 2: Can I chat with him? (Mandarin)  
> 3: Hello, my name is Wong Yuk Hei  
> 4: What’s your name?  
> 5: Where are you from?  
> 6: I’m from Hong Kong  
> 7: I don’t understand  
> 8: This is my address  
> 9: You're pretty
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I always appreciate comments or asks to my kumajoonie.tumblr.com inbox!


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